


demons are terrible wingmen

by theauthorish, WatercolorButterflies



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Demons, Demon Summoning, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Minor Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Supernatural Elements, Texting, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27380668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatercolorButterflies/pseuds/WatercolorButterflies
Summary: Jaemin is having a hard time talking to a boy, so he recruits some outside help.Renjun is summoned by a boy with no plan other than sacrificing his soul.These are the resulting shenanigans./////He supposes he’s not too bad off with this contract— Jaemin’s stupid, ridiculously so, but he’s nice, and he respects pronouns and all that good stuff. And he cooks really well, if dinner last night was any indication; even if Renjun doesn’t actually need human food, he’s gonna eat whatever Jaemin makes him for the rest of their contract term, however long that is.But when Renjun says Jaemin’s stupid, he’s not kidding. His entire plan for getting a date with that crush of his ends at summoning a demon. Not even at the contract terms, the summoning. If Renjun were a lesser demon, he would have ripped the poor boy off for all he’s worth.He’s maintained some morals in hell, though, so he won’t. Unfortunately.Those morals have somehow turned him into a dumbass human’s wingman.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Kudos: 16





	demons are terrible wingmen

Jaemin thinks that _maybe_ he needs a better set of friends.

Well, actually, Chenle is fine, but like—

It can’t be responsible witchery (is that a word?) to actively encourage your friend to summon supernatural— possibly murderous— demon help just to get a date with his crush.

Like he couldn’t do that with some normal, human help.

Okay, on second thought, maybe Chenle isn’t fine. If Donghyuck or Chenle would just play wingman for him, he wouldn’t have to do this shit! 

He could also, theoretically, crush on someone more attainable than Jeno Real-Life-Angel-and-Puppy-Personified Lee, but Jaemin dismisses that option almost the second it occurs to him. After sharing a class twice a week with Jeno for the past few months, Jaemin knows for a fact there’s no one more perfect, no one more worth crushing on. 

Like— even with eyebags deeper than the Marianas Trench and in coffee-stained pajamas he hasn’t bothered to change out of, Jeno looks perfect! How!? (This is, again, fact; Jaemin had seen this exact sight one morning last semester, as autumn started kicking into gear. Jeno had caught some sort of virus, but he’d insisted he was doing too poorly in statistics to skip, though he’d ditched all the other classes of the day.)

(That was also the single longest conversation he’d held with Jaemin, when Jaemin’s concern overrode his general gay panic, and Jaemin was able to ask after him and whether he needed help getting to the clinic or something.)

(Unfortunately, for most of that conversation, Jaemin had _kind of_ gone into mom friend mode and nagged him about his health. He’d even gotten Jeno’s number, but all he’d done with it was text him _more_ nagging and then insist Jeno text him if he needed anything. Jeno hadn’t made use of that offer, had only texted a thanks and a kaomoji the next day alongside a completely unnecessary apology for “bothering” Jaemin, as if Jaemin would ever, ever use that word in relation to Jeno Love-of-Jaemin’s-Life Lee.)

Point being, Jeno’s just Peak Man™.

And Jaemin is personally offended that his own gay panic is stopping him from getting the man of his dreams. He literally has his number still saved! They smile at each other in class sometimes! Why can’t Jaemin override the stupid panic to ask him out? 

The solution, to Offended Jaemin, was to ask self-proclaimed Witch Bitch Lee Donghyuck for help.

Current Jaemin has a few regrets.

“Are you done,” the bored-looking demon in the center of the crude summoning circle asks. “I don’t have all day, you know. Not everyone can drop everything just to be an audience for your boy problems for ten minutes.”

The most outstanding one right now is the fact that he’s apparently going insane.

Not because of the summoning or anything, he knew that would work; Donghyuck’s a really talented witch, and smarter than he lets on, of course it worked, Jaemin had known it would. Not even for going along with the summoning, because at the end of the day, whether he regrets it or not, Jaemin’s a chaotic idiot, so him agreeing to this isn’t really unusual either.

No, apparently he’s just going crazy enough to rant out _way_ too much information to a newly summoned demon.

The admittedly very cute demon, even if he— actually, Jaemin will use they. Who knows what pronouns the demon uses. Jaemin is respectful and inclusive. Anyway, they look particularly unimpressed.

Jaemin should probably say something in response. He should maybe get down to business ~~to defeat the Huns~~ and, like, lay out some contract terms or something.

But apparently, Jaemin’s not done being an idiot, because the first thing to come out of his mouth is, “Are you sure you’re a demon?”

The demon’s glare darkens, a feat Jaemin hadn’t thought possible. They already looked pretty pissed. 

“ _Yes,_ you insufferable, miserable, mortal worm.”

Jaemin fights back a coo. They’re so cute! _So_ cute.

The demon sighs, sounding ridiculously harried, and taps their foot impatiently. “What do you want?”

“A date!” Jaemin pauses. “With a human. That I know. In person.” He has to clarify, just in case the adorable demon thinks he wanted to date _them_. Not— not that Jaemin would be opposed, to be completely honest.

The demon raises a single, perfect eyebrow. “That wasn’t sketchy or anything,” they say, crossing their arms over their chest.

“Okay, well, I just wanted it to be clear, okay? You never know what kind of ideas people will come up with if left to their own devices.” Jaemin waves a hand vaguely, gaze darting off into a corner so he doesn’t have to keep drowning in the demon’s impossibly dark, entirely skeptical eyes.

“I really don’t. I am, in fact, not a person, despite appearances.”

“Never mind then,” says Jaemin quickly, “but I had to be sure. I bet demons think, too.”

“I— of course we—” The demon groans, dragging a black-nailed hand over his face. They’re emo. Nice. “Just— okay? I guess? But what do you want me to _do_? If you know enough to be able to summon me, you know I can’t do shit about free will. I can compel people to do things, and maybe convince them of things, but I can’t alter feelings. I have to use their own feelings and perceptions against them,” they explain. “If he doesn’t already love you, well, tough l—”

Jaemin raises his hands to stop the demon. “Well, to be fair, someone else did most of the grunt work for me. So I know enough to follow instructions, and I know you can’t force feelings and shit, but can’t you at lea—”

“Wait,” says the demon, cutting Jaemin off again, which, _rude—_ but Jaemin will let it slide. Not at all because the demon’s glare gets even more cutting, nope. “Someone else?”

“Yeah, my good pal Lee Donghyuck, the real Witch Bitch. It’s his preferred title, by the way.”

The demon opens their mouth, then shuts it again. They pinch the bridge of their nose. “That— I should’ve recognized his handiwork. God, he’s— I can’t stand that guy. Of all the demons for this shitshow, he chose _me_?”

Jaemin _cackles_ . “Holy _shit_ , I wish I was recording this. Hyuck’s gonna love this.”

A pause. Neither he nor the demon say anything.

“But seriously, please help me.”

/////

Renjun… is so tired. Yes, he might be a demon. Yes, he’s committed plenty of sins. But _what_ in the fucking world did he do to deserve _this._

Befriend Lee Donghyuck, apparently.

He really should never have agreed to meet him the first time, when he’d dated Yukhei. He should have straight up incinerated him the second time, when he’d somehow won Mark over and started dating him instead. (Not because he broke Yukhei’s heart or anything; Yukhei had done the dumping, actually— for some other human boy, who knew what his name was. Lee Donghyuck was just annoying.)

Why were all of Renjun’s friends so susceptible to human boy charms? There was nothing great about them, least of all Lee Donghyuck.

He supposes he’s not too bad off with this contract— Jaemin’s stupid, ridiculously so, but he’s nice, and he respects pronouns and all that good stuff. And he cooks really well, if dinner last night was any indication; even if Renjun doesn’t actually _need_ human food, he’s gonna eat whatever Jaemin makes him for the rest of their contract term, however long that is.

But when Renjun says Jaemin’s stupid, he’s not kidding. His entire plan for _getting a date_ with that crush of his ends at summoning a demon. Not even at the contract terms, the _summoning_. If Renjun were a lesser demon, he would have ripped the poor boy off for all he’s worth.

He’s maintained some morals in hell, though, so he won’t. Unfortunately. 

Those morals have somehow turned him into a dumbass human’s wingman.

A wingman! A powerful demon like Renjun really should have better prospects. He almost misses the time when everyone summoning demons wanted world domination, even if those contracts had been nightmares in their own right.

Way too much paperwork.

Whatever. He might as well have fun with this, since the only rule Jaemin told him to follow was to not get them arrested.

His first move: creating records that make him a student at Jaemin’s university, for both convenience and access to paints. There aren’t a lot of art supplies in hell. Renjun registers himself as Hwang Injun, Jaemin’s roommate (thank god Jaemin had been one of the few who’d gotten what should’ve been a room for two to himself) who transferred in recently from a private university. He makes sure to put himself in the class Jaemin shares with Jeno, and sets his major as Fine Arts with a specialization in painting, and obviously gives himself a full-ride scholarship. Why the hell not?

The morning of Renjun’s first class with his loser human and his to-be boy, he sits cross-legged in front of Jaemin’s fancy mirror and contemplates himself. What vibe, out of the infinite possibilities, should he go for? If he wants to fit the art student stereotype, he could manifest some paint-stained overalls or something. 

That’s boring. What does Jeno wear? Renjun glances at Jaemin to make sure he’s still asleep, whispers a simple incantation as quietly as he can, and opens a scrying portal in his lap using Jeno’s full name as a guide. It shows him Jeno’s face, thankfully also asleep since it’s somewhere around four in the morning. Admittedly, Renjun agrees Jeno’s pretty cute. A nice, defined jawline, smooth skin, a soft pout of a mouth. Kinda cute. 

Renjun feels sorry for him. Jaemin’s pretty fucking determined to win his heart, and if he’s anything like Donghyuck Lee (and if they’re friends, he must be similar _somehow_ ), he’ll be a little pest about it.

Moving the image around the room, Renjun spots a couple of hoodies hanging off the desk chair, some glasses on a bedside table, and an excessive number of joggers and sweats _near_ the closet, but not in it. 

Looks like a jock. Hopefully he’s sufficiently nerdy to make up for a crime that heinous.

That’s another point towards Jaemin’s stupidity, honestly— a jock. A _jock_. Ugh.

If Jeno’s got the sporty, dark look covered, Renjun can dress himself in light, soft colors to contrast with him, and hopefully fuck with Jaemin’s head. As a form of minor revenge for dragging Renjun into something this ridiculous.

And may the Lord help Donghyuck when Renjun gets his claws on him.

Renjun grins in the slowly rising light of the morning sun. This will be fun— Jaemin’s very obviously a gay disaster, and he’s not slick at all about eyeing Renjun when he thinks Renjun can’t see him. His reaction is bound to be funny.

Besides, there’s a hilarious irony in Renjun, a literal demon, looking like the pure kind of boy you could take home to your parents.

He’ll wait for Jaemin to be up to try out a couple of looks. In the meantime, he can plan.

/////

Jaemin wakes up and finds Renjun looking at the photos he has framed along his walls. Most of them are pictures of his family and friends. A few, though, are just landscapes or random objects, photos that Jaemin is proudest of.

One or two on there have even won a contest of some sort.

Renjun is looking at one of those now, fingering the little plaque Jaemin had been given, where he’s posted it right beneath the frame as a sort of reminder for when things get difficult.

When Jaemin finally musters up enough motivation to leave the warmth of his blankets, Renjun turns to look at him, though he doesn’t say anything, and neither does Jaemin.

Nothing against Renjun, or anything, Jaemin simply refuses to speak without some caffeine in his bloodstream. It never ends well when he does. He once made Shotaro, his adorable neighbor two doors down _cry_ doing that. (He’d apologized profusely, of course, and has since been soundly forgiven, but Jaemin isn’t keen on a repeat performance, especially not when the current most likely victim could literally slaughter him with no more than a snap of his fingers.)

Instead of talking, Jaemin quirks his lips in a tiny, good morning grin, shuffling into the kitchenette to brew a pot of good old coffee. 

Renjun, for his part, returns to his inspection of Jaemin’s photography. As he fishes out a new pack of filters for the coffee maker, Jaemin shoots Renjun a glance. He doesn’t look judgmental, or anything. Not particularly awed, either, but that’s fine.

Some fifteen minutes later, Jaemin’s sipping at a mug and carrying a second to Renjun where he’s migrated to the spare bed— the one that will be the demon’s for the foreseeable future. Wingmanning is delicate business, Jaemin knows, so he doesn’t think setting a time limit would be realistic at all. 

“Thank you,” says Renjun, accepting the warm drink and taking a sip. His face screws up, and Jaemin fights back a giggle. “You just drink it like this?” he demands, already walking towards the cupboards. “This is awful. Where’s your sugar and milk?”

Jaemin points him in the right direction with a shrug. “So,” he calls, as Renjun mutters under his breath about even hell having no torture quite so bitter as fucking black coffee (which Jaemin _highly_ doubts, to be honest, especially since Jaemin rather _likes_ black coffee— loves it, even). Jaemin wonders if he should admit he’s just a special case, and likes most of his flavors on the extreme, but decides against it. Renjun seems to be having a very serious conversation with himself, and Jaemin would hate to interrupt— well, at least, interrupt for something so inane. He’s more than eager to cut in with, “What’s the plan?”

“You tell me,” says Renjun with a shrug, mixing in two heaping spoons of sugar into his cup. “The class isn’t until this afternoon, right? It’s only 9 am. We have a few hours.” Jaemin considers that, and starts to offer a tour of campus, maybe, along with breakfast at his favorite cafe, but before he’s even finished drawing in a breath to do so, Renjun cuts him off. “Wait, hold on, before anything else, I have to pick an aesthetic for myself.”

“A what now?” Jaemin blinks. “What does that have to do with anything?” he asks, incredulous.

Renjun levels him with a look that makes him feel a little like the dumbest person to ever exist, one who should definitely not be in his sophomore year of college— and Jaemin doesn’t think that’s fair. It was a perfectly reasonable question! They’re trying to get _Jaemin_ a date! Why does _Renjun’s_ looks matter?

“Because,” says Renjun slowly. “How I look and act is going to affect our approach?”

When Jaemin fails to show any kind of understanding, Renjun sighs heavily and stands. “Look, not everyone is going to wingman the same, right?”

Jaemin nods wordlessly.

“Right. So how I look should suit how I’ll act— especially as your wingman.”

“Why can’t you just wingman me as your normal self?”

“My—” Renjun growls something under his breath, it sounds distinctly inhuman, and not like words at all, except it’s much too deliberate to be anything but. Maybe a demon language of some sort? “Jaemin. I’m a demon. There is no ‘normal’ as myself.”

“You must have a personality,” retorts Jaemin. “You definitely have an attitude.”

Renjun fixes Jaemin with a sour look, and Jaemin fights his instinct to quail in the face of it. Stupid human self-preservation urges. He has a contract, Renjun can’t hurt him (probably). The glare means nothing. If only the primitive part of his brain would get the memo. “I’m trying to be considerate,” Renjun grits out. “And really, either way, I’ll be acting myself. Just a different facet.” He rolls his eyes, complaining in a voice almost too low for Jaemin to catch, “You humans always seem to think things are one thing or another, don’t you know how to look at things dimensionally?”

“I have a few ideas in mind, actually,” says Renjun. “Since I’m an art student now. You just need to pick one.”

Jaemin nods wordlessly. Then he has a thought. “Wait, hold on, where are you gonna get—” Renjun slides open what was previously an empty closet to reveal a few outfits. 

“Don’t ask, because I won’t answer.” Renjun snaps his fingers, and you know what, what even is the point, Jaemin wonders, of hanging them all up if you’re not even gonna change into them properly? If you’re just gonna magic them on your body, why not do that from the get-go and save some effort? Are all demons this extra? “What do you think of this one?”

Hm? Oh, right. The outfit. That’s the whole point. Jaemin shakes his head as if that’ll help clear it of pointless thoughts and gives Renjun a once-over.

Jaemin’s mouth runs dry— he looks… 

“Um. I— this is… related to art how?” Jaemin has an answer, but he’s pretty sure it’s wrong; dressed in sleek, sinfully tight leather, Renjun _is_ the art. With the material of the pants, his legs are a study of light and shadow all on their own, and that says nothing of the white cropped (also leather, Jaemin’s gonna faint) jacket, nor the navy shirt tucked in to show off his narrow waist and—

Oh god, the silver chain flashing at his neck really, really makes Jaemin want to bite him. Just… just because. And because that isn’t enough torture, Renjun also has silver hoops dangling from his ears, and winged eyeliner pointed to a dangerous degree. It could probably be used to stab someone. Maybe Jaemin. He’s not even sure he’d complain. As an added bonus, Renjun’s lips are tinted a suspiciously dark red and Jaemin really is _not okay in the slightest he absolutely needs to veto this_.

Except. He’s not really sure he remembers how words work? So that’s an issue.

“Clearly you’re uncultured. That’s fine, I wouldn’t want to scare poor Jeno _before_ he meets you, that wouldn’t do at all.” Renjun sounds a little disappointed, but like he wasn’t expecting any better of Jaemin than the meltdown he’s having quite obviously right now. That stings.

It stings worse because Jaemin can’t even argue. He’s not _wrong_.

Jaemin just… he has an _appreciation_. A very healthy one. For men.

He’s gay, is what he’s saying.

Renjun snaps his fingers again, and Jaemin pretends not to feel his face flushing a hundred shades of red. This one, at least, doesn’t send Jaemin’s heart into overdrive. It’s just a tasteful brightly striped button-up with one too many buttons open at the collar underneath a pair of paint-splattered overalls. His hair has miraculously grown, too, falling almost to his chin, half of it pulled back into an adorably miniscule ponytail.

It should look ratty. Keyword being _should_. 

Instead it looks the exact opposite; Renjun like this looks untouchable, looks like some kind of Greek muse, a little too close to divine for comfort— okay, actually, that’s one hell (heh) of an irony but… it’s definitely true.

“It’s—” Jaemin swallows against the lump in his throat. “You look good.”

Renjun seems to mull something over, humming in a low voice. He snaps his fingers again, and now he has little drawn on flowers scattered across his cheeks, like one of those filters. For something so small, the effect is devastating. Jaemin has to remind himself very, very aggressively that it’s Jeno he wants to date— not this admittedly very pretty boy… who is actually a _demon,_ which makes him _very much not_ a viable option. Not an option at all. Demons are off limits, Donghyuck should be a shining example of what _not_ to do.

Jaemin isn’t Donghyuck; he doesn’t need to live that much on the edge.

/////

Jaemin’s awkward bumbling is funny, but Renjun figures he’s got to give the guy a break before he proceeds to lose his shit again when they head to class. 

“Okay, loser, one last look then you pick, got it?” Renjun doesn’t wait for a response, just proceeds to snap his fingers for what’s hopefully the last time. His final outfit manifests in a burst of sparkles he decides to summon at the last second, an addition that might be a little much but Jaemin’s in no place to judge. He summoned a demon.

Renjun’s last look is his favorite, to be honest. It’s the softest, with a pastel pink, fuzzy sweater with long sleeves to achieve the perfect sweater paws, and a pair of comfortable jeans (with a few rips for a nice contrast of _edge_ ). His hair has turned a muted golden blond, and for an extra touch of ironic innocence, a pair of round glasses on top of a light pink dusting of blush. 

He’s a genius, if he must say so himself. (He does).

Once satisfied with how his sweater is settled on his shoulders, Renjun glances back up at Jaemin to see the man completely frozen, flush high on his cheeks. Oh, this is _perfect._ Jaemin is going to have an awful time paying attention in class today, and Renjun will be having a _blast_.

“So? What do you think? Personally, I’m rather partial to this one, it’s nice and comfy—” Renjun reaches his arms forwards and wiggles his fingers for dramatic effect, smiling as sweetly as he can muster just for the way it makes Jaemin blush even darker, “but it’s your boy we’re trying to catch, so it’s up to you.”

Jaemin is starting to bounce on his heels like a hyperactive child. It’s a little worrying.

“Jaemin?”

Jaemin’s hands form fists by his sides, then relax, in a repeated manner as if he’s looking for something to hold, or to squeeze.

“Hello? Jaemin? Are you there, or did your last brain cell finally call it quits?”

“You’re just— you’re so cute!” Jaemin manages to squeak out, gesturing vaguely with his hands like that’ll convey exactly _how_ cute.

Renjun sighs. “I— thank you, Jaemin, but you still haven’t answered my question. Out of the three I showed you, which outfit do you think we should go with?” 

Jaemin blinks thrice, rapidly, like he’s rebooting. “Just… not the first,” he mumbles eventually. “For my own sanity.”

“Hm. Okay. Then between the second and this one, you like this one better? I think that’s the best I’m gonna get from you, so I’ll stay in this, I suppose.” Renjun turns and flops on the couch. “Wake me up when you’re ready to go.”

“I thought you didn’t need to sleep?”

“I don’t, but you’ve somehow exhausted me with your idiocy. You have about three hours left to get ready. Use them well.” With that, Renjun curls up, closes his eyes, and pointedly snores.

“Faker,” hisses Jaemin, so Renjun snores louder to drown him out.

After a moment, Jaemin is shaking Renjun’s shoulder urgently. “We have to go! If we leave any later than within the next five minutes, we’ll have to actually jog— or worse, run— across campus!” 

“No? Chill, I just laid down.” 

Renjun hears Jaemin audibly gasp. “No! Renjun, it’s been hours! Open your eyes!” 

A glance at the clock confirms what Jaemin’s panicking about. Well, shit. Time is fake anyway. Especially because Renjun’s an immortal demon who definitely does not need to measure it. TIme is for mortals.

“Get _up!_ ” Jaemin practically screeches, chucking a pillow into Renjun’s face. “We need to _leave!_ ”

“Fucking fine, holy shit, calm down.” Renjun sits up, slowly so as to piss off Jaemin as much as possible. “You need to relax. It’ll be fine.”

“It will _not_ be fine! If you don’t get your ass up _now_ , we’ll have to _run_ , and then my hair will be messed up and I’ll have no time to fix it. You can’t do this to me.” Jaemin has started tugging on Renjun’s arms, which is more than unacceptable. He’s gonna stretch out the sleeves!

“First of all, Jaemin, let me go,” Renjun shakes Jaemin’s hands off of him, glaring hard enough to burn holes in Jaemin’s audacity. “Second, I sincerely think you’re underestimating me.” He snaps, and his clothes smooth themselves of wrinkles. Standing up, Renjun grabs Jaemin’s wrist, drags him to the door, and drops it again. 

“Put on your shoes, and open the door.”

“Wh— okay?” Puzzled, Jaemin obeys. He pulls the door open carefully, like he suspects it’ll explode or something.

“Why did you ask me to op— what the _fuck_?” He jumps backwards as if burned, which he most definitely did not, thanks.

Renjun rolls his eyes, hefting a bag over his shoulder, and seizing Jaemin by the elbow. “Thought you said we were late?” he says sharply, dragging Jaemin forward with him. “Out we go, loser.”

“How’d you even know what hall we were going to?! Why does this open to campus and not to my dorm hallway?!”

“Demon magic.” And asking Donghyuck fucking Lee last night for a map, but Renjun isn’t admitting that anytime soon. Mostly because doing that would mean admitting he’d temporarily forgotten about modern technology and the internet.

Anyway. Not important.

“Lead the way, Jaemin! Go, go, go!” Renjun pulls Jaemin closer and shoves him forward, forcing him to walk faster. “Off to class!”

/////

Even with Renjun’s magical, demonic powers, they slip inside the lecture hall just before the professor. Jaemin wants to catch Renjun’s eye so he can communicate how right he was about them being late, but Renjun’s too occupied, scanning the hall for a seat.

Personally, Jaemin doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with his seat— it’s on the complete opposite end of the hall from where Jeno sits, so Jaemin’s never distracted and can actually listen in class and take notes and shit.

Jaemin knows he’s not the _best_ student; he’s a little slow to grasp things and forgetful to boot, but he’s definitely hard-working. He’s paying exorbitant amounts for this education, god damn it, he’s not gonna waste it. So really, distraction isn’t something he can afford, and he’s bound to be exactly that anywhere in Jeno’s vicinity.

Renjun must find something satisfactory. He drags Jaemin over to some seats a few rows behind and to the right of Jeno, up against the wall.

This feels a little like a trap. Jaemin doesn’t like that, but he can’t complain when it’s well within the contract terms, and he doesn’t actually know what Renjun’s planning. He might just be being paranoid.

“Sit down,” says Renjun, impatiently, as Jaemin just stands there, playing with the frayed strap of his backpack.

When Jaemin hesitates, he clicks his tongue, hands on his hips, and he’s so cute Jaemin melts. He chuckles. “Okay, okay. You’re cute.”

Renjun arches a brow, but doesn’t comment. “So for now, we’re just doing recon. Well, I am. That’s Jeno, right?” He points.

Jaemin follows his line of sight and yeah, that’s definitely Jeno. He’s in his usual hoodie, his favorite, it would seem, based on how often he wears it. It says _NO FAKE FRIENDS_ on the back. Very simple. Classy, but modern. Street chic. Something pretentious like that. It looks very comfy, and it makes Jeno look adorable, softens all the sharp lines of his face, and makes him look even more puppyish than he normally does.

Wait.

How does Renjun know?

“How did you…?”

“I have my ways,” Renjun answers cryptically, sliding into his seat. “Try to pay attention to the professor instead of Jeno, will you? I can’t take notes for you, I’ll be busy taking notes on Jeno.”

“ _What?_ ” Jaemin jerks his gaze away from Jeno and the way he scrunches his nose as he pokes his glasses up, cuter than anything Jaemin’s ever seen; and the way he effortlessly spins a pen between his graceful, strong-looking fingers, oddly attractive; and the way he— wait. Hold on.

What did Renjun just say?

Shit, does Jaemin have demon competition? Jeno is too powerful, too handsome, too everything, and how is Jaemin gonna beat an actual demon, one that looks so beautiful to boot—

“Jaemin-ah!” Renjun hisses, snapping his fingers in front of Jaemin’s face. Maybe it’s just classical conditioning because Renjun’s been snapping to accompany practically all his magic tricks since his summoning, but Jaemin flinches, and immediately darts his eyes around the room, looking to see what might have changed.

Jeno looks fine, and nothing looks out of the ordinary. No dead bodies hanging from the ceiling or—

“Jeez, you’re fucked up,” mutters Renjun, with a wrinkle of his nose. “I’m not murdering anybody. Or digging up corpses. That’s disrespectful to the dead too, and I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“What do you think?” Renjun shakes his head, and looks rather like he’s contemplating all his life choices and how he got in this position. Jaemin doesn’t sympathize— he’s not nearly as bad as Renjun makes it seem— but he’s seen the expression before on Chenle, or on one of his other hyungs.

Renjun assures him, “I didn’t do anything. I was just trying to get you to stop mooning over your boy for one minute so I can explain the plan?”

“The plan?”

“Yes?” Renjun tugs out a notebook and a pen— Jaemin has no idea where he got this shit, but he never seems to know where Renjun gets anything. Hopefully it’s not stolen. “I’m taking this seriously, you know. I didn’t get my current demon rank by half-assing my contracts. And I don’t wing things either. There’s always a plan.”

“O...kay.” This is… too much information for Jaemin’s currently Jeno-thought-infested singular brain cell. “Are you actually taking physical notes?”

“No. This is just for appearances. What do you take me for? I’m a demon, not a nerd.”

Jaemin doesn’t think those two things are mutually exclusive, but okay.

Class passes by in a blur. Jaemin’s notes are sloppier than usual, and here and there, there are gaping holes where Jaemin had gotten distracted, eyes drawn to Jeno, as always.

Renjun always nudges him back to attention though, which helps.

The class is— according to the clock at the front of the room— due to end in ten minutes when the professor suddenly announces a group project. For statistics.

Jaemin hates his life.

“You’re going to group into pairs or trios,” announces the professor, as Jaemin bites back a groan. “And collect some statistics of your own that you can apply one of the tests we’ve learned, like ANOVA, for example. You can make a survey about something you’re interested in or look stuff up, it’s up to you, but you’ll have to present it to the class in a few weeks.”

Great. Fuck this shit. Jaemin turns to complain to Renjun, to ask if he can do something about this so they don’t have to do a fuckin’ group project— the bane of any college student’s existence— but Renjun is… talking to Jeno?

Wait.

Wait, hold on.

_What_? 

Jaemin scrubs at his eyes like that’ll somehow change things, but… no. That’s Renjun all right, looking adorably tiny next to Jeno and speaking easily with him, smiling lightly.

Jaemin doesn’t even have time to be jealous, because Renjun is suddenly turning to him, as if he can sense Jaemin’s gaze (maybe he can, demon that he is). Renjun waves him over. “Jaemin-ah!”

Feeling off-balance, Jaemin stands very carefully. He feels like he might just topple over, because this… this is such weird new territory. Jeno’s smiling softly at him as he approaches, and so is Renjun, and Jaemin—

Jaemin manages to giggle a little nervously, mumbling out a, “Hello,” and that’s about it, before eye contact is suddenly just not a thing he knows how to accomplish.

“You don’t mind us being a trio, right?” Renjun asks, but he isn’t looking at Jaemin. He’s speaking to Jeno. Jaemin wishes that were him, but he crashes every time he attempts, so... “Jaemin is a bit introverted—” which is true, admittedly, but Renjun what the fuck, don’t make him sound friendless— “so if I left him alone he probably wouldn’t partner up with anyone.” He beams up at Jeno, clasping his absolutely _small, sweater-covered hands_ together. “Please?”

Jeno goes a little red at the sight, shooting a glance at Jaemin. He smiles reassuringly. “I’d be happy to. If that’s okay with you, Jaemin?”

Jaemin nods. Jeno’s blush is so cute. Jaemin doesn’t care at all that it was Renjun who wrung it out of him, he just feels blessed to see it. “Yeah, I— that’s fine.”

“Good.” Jeno’s eyes crease, cheeks dimpling with his grin, and god, Jaemin would give him anything he asked for if it would mean he got smiled at like this. “You have my number already, right, Jaemin? You could give it to Injun.”

Injun? Who…? Oh, Renjun. Huh. Okay.

More importantly, Jeno— Jeno remembers that? Like, okay, Theoretically, Jaemin had known this. That’s the whole reason they’d bumped up to vaguely acquaintances, instead of, like, Jaemin being a creep who stared at Jeno without knowing him. But that’s so different from actually having evidence like this. Jaemin kind of wants to swoon.

Renjun claps his hands together in the _tiniest_ manner Jaemin has ever seen. “Okay! If you have Jaemin’s number, we can make a chat and talk more soon! Jaemin and I have to get back to our dorm before they start the room inspection, but we’ll see you next class!” He pauses. Smiles. “Or sooner,” he adds, eyes sparkling in an unnaturally bright manner. _Demons._

Jeno nods. “Sure. I look forward to it. Good luck with the inspection!” He salutes (and it’s so cute Jaemin could cry), and then crosses the room to talk to some other guy, Jaemin doesn’t know or care about who.

Especially because after Renjun waves a goodbye to Jeno , he grabs Jaemin’s arm, way tighter than he needs to, and— wow, what’s his problem? He was fine thirty seconds ago. Jaemin is dragged quickly out of the classroom, and as soon as the door shuts behind them Renjun’s grip only gets more painful. 

“Why the _fuck_ didn’t you tell me you _already hav_ e his number? Are you really that much of a mouse-hearted worm that you can’t text a guy for notes or something? This shit is practically _laid out_ for you to succeed!” 

Jaemin recoils. That’s… a lot of venom for someone so small. “Yah, you don’t need to yell at me,” he mutters, trying to glare, though he probably looks more like a wounded kitten than anything. “He just… you saw him, right? He’s so perfect, and nice, and— I’m not— I can’t— I didn’t summon you to rip into me for my failures, you know.” He curls into himself a little, before realizing what he’s doing and straightening up. Okay, no, he discussed this with Donghyuck. He needs to be more confident in himself, and that starts with the little things. Like posture. Posture is doable.

Renjun stops. Jaemin can feel his hand loosen on his arm, and drop.

“You— you’re right. I’m sorry.”

What?

“I’m sorry for yelling, I’m not mad at you. You haven’t done anything wrong, I’m just frustrated? I don’t know. But that was mean, and I didn’t mean it.” Renjun sounds genuine, but he just proved himself to be a decent actor, so who knows whether or not it’s real.

Jaemin turns to face Renjun, holding eye contact for a long minute. They probably make quite a sight, standing in the middle of the corridor just staring at each other, wordless; if this was some kind of drama, there’d be some sort of tense soundtrack, and the audience would probably be expecting either a brawl, or a kiss— probably the straights and the gays respectively.

But this isn’t a drama. This is just… Jaemin and his lingering insecurities, and a demon who doesn’t know anything about that, who hopefully won’t need to stick around long enough to know— again, not anything personal, Jaemin just doesn’t particularly feel like facing down the Ordeal of Being Known.

Renjun seems to mean it. He doesn’t shy away from Jaemin’s searching gaze, doesn’t pull away or try to defend himself.

Jaemin shrugs, and with the roll of his shoulders, he lets the thick atmosphere fall away, tucks away each frayed edge of that particular list of things not to touch back in its dusty box in his brain. “Okay,” he says, voice light. “As long as you don’t forget it. I know it’s kind of funny, watching me flail and be helpless, but it’s not all— you know?” He hopes Renjun understands. Jaemin’s not sure he has the words to explain otherwise. He starts to walk, and beside him, Renjun does too.

“I’ll try again?” Renjuns ventures carefully, “If that’s okay?”

Jaemin nods once. “Sure.” He’s not sure what that means. Try what? But sure.

“Okay… So, I think that having his number means that you _have_ talked to him before, since you don’t seem the type to take numbers from class lists or whatever else you have access to, and he _remembers_ , which is the more important thing. He _knows_ you, so we’re more ahead than I thought we were.” Renjun snaps his fingers, and manifests a recent model smartphone.

“He was sick once,” Jaemin explains. “I’m a worry-wart. It overrode the panic for a day or two.” He stops to gawk at the device in Renjun’s hand. “Why. Why do you keep— where do you get this shit?” he demands.

“Where do you think?” Renjun winks. Jaemin has to bite his lip to keep from cooing. He’s so cute, it’s unfair. Demons shouldn’t look so pretty. They really shouldn’t. “It’s just more demon magic. I would’ve manifested it earlier, but I both forgot about modern technology and didn’t realize you already had his number.” Renjun turns on the inexplicably-produced phone and reveals a background with a selfie of Renjun and a boy who looks kind of young, but seems much taller than Renjun himself. He has squishy-looking cheeks.

“Who’s that?” Jaemin asks, because he can’t help himself.

“Never mind that,” Renjun responds. “Give me Jeno’s number.”

“What, why?” Jaemin squints at Renjun. He feels oddly protective, somehow, of Jeno and his number, which Jaemin has treasured even if he never made use of it until now.

“Because I’m not letting you fail stats?” Renjun stares back at Jaemin, making direct eye contact as if challenging him.

“Oh.” Right. This was a graded thing. “Fine.” Jaemin pulls out his phone and scrolls through to the right contact— marked by an abundance of hearts— and holds out the screen to Renjun.

“Why— this says ‘Samoyed?’”

“Exactly,” Jaemin says, with a serious nod. There’s nothing more accurate, or more of a compliment, than Jaemin’s favorite dog in the whole world.

“... You know what, that’s fair. I had a client with like three, once. They’re _made_ for hugs, it’s fucking ridiculous.”

“I want one! I want to hug one!” Renjun jumps at the sudden yelling. Jaemin throws his hands up. “Why aren’t pets allowed at the dorm? I’d take care of it! I’m really responsible!” He pauses. “Jeno’s probably fantastic at hugs too, don’t you think?”

He’s gotta be. With arms like that… He’d engulf whoever he was hugging, probably hold tight, but not too tight because he was gentle underneath it all. Jaemin sighs dreamily. That’s… That would be so nice.

Renjun considers the point for a moment. “Probably? Ask him what his gym routine is, or something. About the dogs though, if you want I probably know a guy? We can’t hide one in the dorm, but we could visit and hug some.”

Jaemin sucks in a breath, brightening up. “ _Really_?” He snags Renjun’s hand in his own, pulling him to a stop right before they push into the dorm lobby. “Don’t play with me about this, Renjun, I’m so serious.”

Renjun blinks at him, slowly retracting his hand. Abruptly, he pushes into the lobby, not even bothering to hold the door open— Jaemin yelps and catches it at the last minute, before he gets whacked in the face. Dick. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?” Renjun tosses over his shoulder. “Hurry up, will you?”

/////

**Stats**

**Hwang Injun** _has added_ **Na Jaemin** _to the chat._

 **Hwang Injun** _has added_ **Lee Jeno** _to the chat._

**Hwang Injun**

hi guys, this is the stats chat

**Na Jaemin**

this is unacceptable

**Lee Jeno**

hi

**Hwang Injun**

what’s wrong?

**Na Jaemin**

this Whole Thing

just

lemme

 **Na Jaemin** _has changed the chat name to_ **three musketeers**

 **Na Jaemin** _has changed their nickname to_ **banana split**

**banana split**

before you ask, its because im so sweet

**banana split** _has changed_ **Hwang Injun** _’s nickname to_ **demon boy**

**Lee Jeno**

that’s kinda mean he seems nice

**banana split**

thats what he wants you to think

**demon boy**

it’s... an inside joke of sorts

**banana split** _has changed_ **Lee Jeno** _’s nickname to_ **angelface**

**demon boy**

subtle

**angelface**

???

**banana split**

its to balance out the demon boy

**angelface**

why me though

why not you

**banana split**

you????? think im????

jsdncjksjndkcdkfjcnkdfjncjfdnck

(｡・//ε//・｡)  
  
---  
  
  
  
  


**demon boy**

it’s because you HAVE an angel face, angelface

and jaemin just has. like. a face

nice face, but not an angel face

**banana split**

hes right

ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ

**angelface**

uh

sure i guess

thanks?

so what do you guys wanna do?

**demon boy**

ideally, stats

**banana split**

well duh

**angelface**

i… was not expecting the sass from him

maybe from jaemin

but not from injun

**demon boy**

why not

**angelface**

you seemed too nice to be snarky

**banana split**

well you didnt think his nickname was out of nowhere, did you

im not a bully

**demon boy**

don’t trust him

he’s mean

all the time

i’m the nicest guy you’ll ever meet and jaemin bullies me

**angelface**

i want to say sounds fake but i feel guilty even just thinking that

so

i believe you

**banana split**

WHAT

but— he literally just sassed you

when have i been a bully!!!?

**demon boy**

i literally just transferred here and my roommate, my first friend, bullies me

calls me a demon

told his friends he SUMMONED me

i just want to learn

:c

**banana split**

now hold on one second

(⇀‸↼‶)  
  
---  
  
  
  


**angelface**

jaemin how could you???

what did injun ever do to you?

**banana split**

no thats

thats not

i hate this can i quit

**demon boy**

not if you want to pass stats :)

/////

Jaemin’s frustrated yelling is like music to Renjun’s ears.

He laughs quietly to himself from where he’s curled up in a large blanket on his bed.

“Yah, I thought you were supposed to be helping me win him over?” demands Jaemin, punting one of his plushies at Renjun’s face. He tosses another. And another. Two more. Jeez, how many does he even have?

“Yeah!” Renjun manages through his giggles. “I start by integrating him into our group, so that he doesn’t see me as competition, since I’m always with you. Then once we’re all friends, we push. It’s basic strategy, to be honest.” 

“But why does integration involve bullying _me_.”

Renjun shrugs. “It’s fun?”

Jaemin throws another plushie, scowling, though his anger is belied by the twinkle in his eyes.

“I appreciate your sacrifices.”

“You’re a menace,” grumbles Jaemin, flopping back onto his bed with a huff. He pauses. “Hey,” he calls, softly. “What happens if it doesn’t work out with Jeno? Does the contract just… not end unless you get me someone else? Or…?”

“Well, did you use Jeno’s name when you summoned me?”

“Don’t think so? I didn’t draw up most of it though. Like, I did, but Donghyuck gave me a thing and I just copied it.”

Renjun sighs. “Hopefully you’d remember saying his name in the incantation, but okay. If you did, then I’m bound to you until we get _him_. If not, then just whatever level you requested, be it a date, a boyfriend, or something else.” Hopefully not a husband. That might take a while, and Renjun honestly wouldn’t put it past Donghyuck to sneak that clause in there.

Jaemin just blinks at him. “I can’t even remember what I said five minutes ago, if you think I’m gonna remember last night, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Renjun sighs _louder_ . The man is basically a Jeno expert in all other facets of his life, why can’t he remember _this_ ? It’s literally his name, and Jaemin perks up like a puppy to a treat whenever he hears it. “Yeah, but it’s _Jeno._ ”

“If I remembered every time I’d said or thought his name I wouldn’t have brain space for my schoolwork,” Jaemin says seriously. “I pay way too much for tuition for that to be acceptable.”

“You know what? That’s valid. Ask Donghyuck. I can’t give you a good answer if I don’t know.” Wait, but Donghyuck is the Witch Bitch himself.

“But don’t let him know I want to know, he won’t give you a straight answer otherwise.”

“... As straight as any of his answers are, anyway.”

Jaemin shrugs, and taps at his phone a couple of times. He puts it on speaker and drops it on his bed, raising a finger to his lips as if Renjun couldn’t intuit for himself that he’d need to be quiet.

_“Whatever Renjun wants to hear, the answer is the opposite,”_ says Donghyuck, the instant he picks up.

“What?” Jaemin sounds pretty genuinely baffled. “What if I—”

_“Jaemin, you only call me when you’re drunk and moping about Jeno. Or when it’s exam season and you can’t afford to make the coffee run because you can’t feel your legs— or like, see anything because your stupid textbooks are imprinted on your retinas.”_ On the other end of the line, someone that sounds suspiciously like Mark says something, and Donghyuck hisses like a cat. There’s a sound of a slap. _“You can’t be drunk because it’s too early in the day and you’re broke ‘til next week. Exams just finished.”_

Literally why did he call Donghyuck if he wouldn’t call him normally? That’s like, the _epitome_ of suspicious. Now they’ll never find out. And that’ll be rather inconvenient if the case is that Jeno’s name _was_ used, and Jaemin somehow miraculously gets over him. They’d be bound for eternity.

“Okay but to be fair,” says Jaemin, a tad sheepish, “He wants to know the thing so I can know a related thing.”

_“What things are we talking ab— hey! Mark Lee! Fuck off, stop putting maple syrup in all of my fucking bottles— hold on.”_

What the fuck.

What the _actual_ fuck. 

“Mark Lee, Mark Lee, Mark Lee, fuck him up,” Renjun chants softly from his blanket nest. Mark needs as much support as he can get when dealing with Donghyuck.

_“I’m trying!”_ Mark yelps, followed by a mildly concerning crash and a curse from Donghyuck, sounding much further away. Is Mark… running? When did he even get the phone? _“The asshole that is supposedly my boyfriend keeps calling me American, like— I may be fluent in English and an actual demon, but like… There’s no way I’m that evil. So I’m, like, actually— I deserve the revenge! But he keeps getting back at me, and honestly. He has no riGHT— HYUCK!!!”_

The call drops.

“That was… serious, huh?” Jaemin breathes, staring at his phone like it might leap up and bite him.

Renjun’s _almost_ tempted to make it do that. Just because.

Jaemin starts to reach for the device, but for some reason, retracts his hand again. “Do you think they’ll call again? I’m not… really sure I ever wanna call them again.”

Fuck it, Renjun _is_ tempted now. 

He’s a demon, of course he succumbs to temptation.

He snaps his fingers quietly, underneath the blankets wrapped around him so that Jaemin can’t hear it. The phone starts vibrating, but the screen remains dark. Jaemin reaches towards it again, slowly, apprehensively, and just when his hand is about to reach the edge of the device, the screen flashes a bright, blood red, and the phone makes a cartoon villain laugh.

_“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!”_ Jaemin shrieks, so high-pitched his voice cracks. He yanks his arm back hard enough he knocks himself off his bed, and scrambles back as far as he can on the floor. “What the _fu—_ ”

Renjun holds a straight face for approximately half a second, and then he can’t take it anymore, cackling in a way reminiscent of a dramaticized witch, his head thrown back and everything.

“Yah!” Jaemin points an accusatory finger. “Don’t cross the line, huh? You almost gave me a heart attack!” 

Renjun, through poorly contained giggles, tries to justify himself. “But— you looked so scared of it! And— and— your face!” The giggles cannot be contained at all anymore.

Jaemin glares, but unlucky for him, he’s out of stuffed toys to chuck. Sucks to suck.

Fortunately, _Renjun_ is not short of stuffed ammunition. He gleefully makes full use of the plushies surrounding him, and throws them with all his might back at Jaemin. If he makes one or a few fly straight and true with a little magic, that is none of Jaemin’s concern. If he keeps a particularly cute bunny plush safe in his blanket nest, that is also none of Jaemin’s concern.

“Ack, okay—” Jaemin bats the toys away. “So, we didn’t get an answer. Now what?”

“We function under the assumption it’s Jeno specifically, I guess. It’s not like it’ll change our plan of attack at all, plus we’ll find out eventually anyway. Hopefully. Oh, and even if you don’t get a date out of him, he seems cool and you’ll have another friend aside from Donghyuck.” Everyone needs more friends than a single Donghyuck. He’s only nice in small doses.

“I have friends other than Donghyuck!”

“Oh yeah? How many?”

Jaemin mumbles something inaudible.

“What?”

“His name is Chenle.”

“That’s just one. You used a plural.”

“So what? Quality over quantity.”

“‘What’ nothing, I was just gonna say he must be an extra good friend if he’s worth more than one all by himself.” Renjun smiles. He can be nice when he wants to be. Chenle is a nice name, and Jaemin should have nice friends. “But I’ve been here for a whole day and you haven’t mentioned him at all. _Is_ he an extra good friend?”

“I usually don’t have to, he—”

The door slams open. There, on the threshold, hands on his hips and legs spread slightly like he’s about to start a fitness class or something, stands a boy who Renjun doesn’t know. “ _HYUNG!_ I ran out of eggs!” 

“Chenle-yah. The grocery is like… right beside your house,” says Jaemin with a sigh, though he makes no move to stop the boy from reaching into the fridge to pull out some eggs. “Also, why are you eating my food?”

“I’ll just— I’ll buy you more groceries,” says Chenle, flapping a hand as he clatters around the kitchenette, apparently getting ready to cook. “Your fridge is empty anyway, and I know you don’t get paid for a while. We can go shopping after this. But I want eggs first.”

“Oh wow, he _is_ an extra good friend. He’s making excuses to take care of you. Cute.” Renjun comments idly from his corner.

Only then does the newcomer spare Renjun a glance. “ _Oh_? Who are you?”

“The bane of Jaemin’s existence.”

“Oh. The… You’re the demon. Cool.” He cracks an egg into the pan and picks up another, frowning down at it in consideration. “Hey, hyung, do you think I could smash it with my head?”

“What? Chenle, no,” chides Jaemin.

“Fair. Can I try it anyway?”

“No. You always leave an oily mess as it is, why add to it with splattered raw egg and salmonella?”

Renjun can’t resist, “Chenle, _yes_.”

“Demon-hyung said I could,” cheers Chenle triumphantly.

Jaemin frowns. “He has a name, don’t be rude.”

“But I don’t know it.” Chenle, apparently satisfied with the approval and nothing more, doesn’t follow through on the head thing, cracking the rest of the five eggs he’s pulled out into the pan normally. Boring, but considerate. “Hey, how does he know mine?”

“Because Jaemin loves you. I’m Renjun, nice to meet you.” Renjun bows in greeting as much as he can from his blanket bundle.

“That sounds Chinese,” says Chenle, twisting to offer Renjun a quick bow of his head. “Did— did you summon a—” His speech is halting, but he talks fast and surely enough that it doesn’t really seem to be from nervousness. “Hyung, did you summon a Chinese demon? Did you really need to import your demon?” This kid is the _best._

“Literally everything in your apartment is imported, you rich brat. And I don’t know, Donghyuck picked him.”

Wait so Chenle is kind, funny, rich, _and_ Chinese? That’s perfect.

_“Quick question: are you the oldest?”_ Renjun asks, in Mandarin.

_“Correct,”_ replies Chenle, also in Mandarin. A beat of silence. _“Technically only child, but same thing.”_

_“Major?”_

_“Business.”_

Fuck. He ticks all the boxes. He has single-handedly scaled the Great Wall. Is Renjun being stereotypical? Yes. Does he care? Not really.

_“Do you need a demon noodle?”_ Renjun asks, seriously. _“I promise, you’ll love him.”_

_“_ Him? _Aren’t noodles for eating?”_ Chenle shrugs. _“But sure, okay.”_

_“Well, you’d have to ask him first, so maybe.”_ Renjun retrieves his phone, and takes a quick photo of Chenle. He’s photogenic, too. He sends it to Jisung with no more than a few question marks as a caption.

“Hello?” Jaemin cuts in. “What the heck are you saying? I can’t speak Chinese, you know.”

“I tried teaching you,” pouts Chenle, over the sizzle of oil. “It’s not my fault you didn’t learn.”

“Chinese is hard!” complains Jaemin.

Chenle shrugs. “And you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for— unless Jeno is involved. You could have picked it up fine. Still could, if you want.”

“You can practice with me,” offers Renjun. “I could tutor you.”

Jaemin glares. “No. I don’t trust you not to make me say stupid shit.”

“Excuse me, I—”

“Hyung, the eggs are ready!” screams Chenle, then, so it seems like Renjun’s outrage just has to wait.

/////

Chenle and his absurd budget land them in one of the fancier groceries, one with more organic, imported, much-too-overpriced sh—

Stuff. Food. Whatever. Jaemin’s not gonna disrespect edible things and the hard work that goes into preparing them but also—

Why the fuck is he even at a store that sells fucking caviar?

He’s a broke ass college student! He’s never even tasted caviar.

“After this,” declares Chenle, plucking a jar of black truffles off the shelf. “No, actually, tomorrow morning. Tomorrow, tomorrow we go to the street market. We’ll get the good seafood there. And cheap vegetables. And really good food.”

Renjun blinks, and Jaemin has an idea of what he’s thinking. Most people react the same way to Chenle’s ridiculous capacity for duality. “Chenle can blend in anywhere, when he wants to. High class? Sure. Everyday? No problem. Hell, if Chenle really put in effort, he’d figure out how to blend into the slums even with neon hair.”

“I did that once,” says Chenle. “Mom’s— my mom has this one. This one place she really likes to buy frog from, for my dad, you know, but it’s not in the best area even if it’s super famous and always crowded, like. Like, really, it’s so crowded there driving is almost impossible. You have to walk. My cousin didn’t want to go because she thought we’d get jumped, so I went, and my hair was like, highlighter orange, so really if anyone was getting jumped, it’d be— it’d be me, right? But no one even glanced twice at me.” He shrugs once he’s done with his spiel, as if he didn’t basically spit out a whole slew of information that was… concerning Jaemin, a lot. How could this boy just casually talk about being jumped? Jaemin’s pretty sure Chenle’s one of the few people in the world who actually has to worry about being kidnapped for ransom. Like, actively worry about it, and not just in an abstract kind of way.

There have been attempts. None successful, because…

Well. Reasons. 

Jaemin isn’t going to think about these reasons. He’s a moral, upstanding citizen. He has no idea what possibly borderline illegal things Chenle has on his person. And he’s not _going_ to know. That’s a whole can of worms that will stay shut.

“Chenle-yah,” says Jaemin, instead of trying to unpack any of the things Chenle has said. “Put those back, I don’t need—”

“You do need. I like truffles sometimes, and you cook good food. So, truffles.” Just to be defiant, he puts another jar into the cart. “Also, it’s my money. Renjun _,”_ he starts, before asking something in Mandarin, too rapid for Jaemin to catch (not that it would have made a difference).

“Ah, no thank you,” says Renjun, gaze flicking over to Jaemin unsurely. Jaemin just lifts a brow. What does Renjun want him to do? It’s not a question Jaemin can answer for him, mostly because he understood exactly 0% of it.

“Okay. If you’re sure. If there is, just say so.” 

As they go down the aisles, Jaemin resigns himself to the— admittedly very touching— blow to his pride, and picks out things he actually needs and compares values with Chenle. Renjun ambles along beside them, content, for now at least, to listen to them bicker and take in the bright lights and colorful produce labels.

“So, so, hyungs,” says Chenle, as they reach the snack aisle. He’s indiscriminately picking bags upon bags of chips and candy off the shelves, some of which Jaemin’s never seen before in his life, and is not even sure Chenle ever has either. “What’s your plan for Jeno-hyung anyway?”

“I don’t know,” says Jaemin, because he really doesn’t. 

Chenle turns to him, bewildered. “ _What?_ _WHAT?_ Oh my god, what are you _doing_? How can you— How can—” The rest of whatever he wants to say comes out muffled, Jaemin’s palm clamped firmly over Chenle’s stupidly loud mouth.

“I summoned a demon for a reason,” says Jaemin, voice low as an example. “Also, Chenle,” he continues, slowly, as if speaking to a child. Which he kinda is. “Inside voice, yeah? Okay?”

Chenle nods, too hard, too fast, and Jaemin just barely jerks his chin out of the way of Chenle’s impressively thick and very painful (Jaemin’s talking from experience here) skull.

Renjun drops a singular pack of cookies into the overflowing cart, glancing at Chenle for approval. It’s cute. And Jaemin doesn’t have to look to know that he gets a thumbs up from Chenle, who’s generous to a fault. “You know, Jaemin-ah, maybe you shouldn’t look like you’re trying to kidnap Chenle in a place like this. People might actually care and call the guards on you. Or something.”

Fuck, he’s right, so Jaemin drops Chenle like he’s a hot potato. Of course, that sets Chenle off laughing, which makes him sound like an unholy dolphin-banshee hybrid, and it’s lovely, seeing his beaming grin and all but—

“Chenle-yah!” hisses Jaemin. “Shut up!”

“Or what?” taunts Chenle, though he does have to somewhat stifle his screaming to do it intelligibly, and that’s a win. “They’ll kick me out?” He scoffs. “My mom and aunts make up like half their business. They know my face.”

“He’s a brat,” mumbles Renjun, but he sounds more in awe than anything. Of course he would be. He’s a demon. “How is he so angelic, but also a brat?”

“King of duality, as the kids would say,” sighs Jaemin, taking the cart and pushing it forward. Chenle stops him just long enough to drop another five or so packages of Renjun’s selected cookie— Renjun notices, going by the little ‘o’ his mouth has become, and the embarrassed tinge of red on his cheeks— and then ushers him towards the meat section.

“Fine then,” says Chenle. “Then, Renjun-hyung, what’s the plan?”

Renjun hums. “Well, I magicked us into a group project. Which means lots of bonding time alone.”

Chenle gawks at him, saying nothing.

“That’s about it so far,” Renjun admits, seeming a little sheepish. Jaemin would like to criticize him, but he’s not much better himself, honestly— Renjun was definitely ahead of him, there.

But Chenle has no such qualms. “Oh my _god_. Are you kidding me?” He whirls on Jaemin. “That’s your grand plan? You know— you do know if that’s all you wanted, you could have gotten the same result by like… asking for tutoring. Or having Mark-hyung set that up. Or— or, or— if he wouldn’t and you wanted it that badly, I could have just bribed the professor for you.”

“No, you could not!” Jaemin protests, dangerously close to stomping a foot in frustration. He only barely refrains because he doesn’t want to be childish, when— supernatural, immortal creatures aside— he’s the oldest here. “I wouldn’t allow it!”

“Oh, is that so?” drawls Chenle, “You wouldn’t let me bribe them for something as simple as setting up a group project, but you’ll damn your soul and summon a whole-ass demon from hell? It’s not like I’d have bribed the professor to let you cheat on anything— I do have morals. Hell, I might not have needed to bribe him at all.” He yanks Jaemin to a stop, and without looking, drops several packages of steaks, Korean beef slices, some pork belly… into the cart. Jaemin clicks his tongue, and inspects each choice one by one, switching two of them out when he deems one too fatty and one too old-looking. Chenle keeps speaking. “Honestly, honestly, all I’d have to do is play the concerned friend, smile at your prof— bam! I know I’m cute. _You_ know I’m cute. It would’ve worked.” He makes a face. “But no, you get a fucking demon.”

“Donghyuck—”

“Donghyuck damned his soul back in middle school the first time he decided to learn how curses worked just so he could hex Mr. Kim over one deducted point, you really wanna use him as a defense?”

Jaemin shuts his mouth. 

“Thought so,” says Chenle, smug, but he’s laughing brightly, so…

Renjun clears his throat. “I’d just like to state for the record,” he says, staring off into the distance. Jaemin has no idea what he could be looking at, there’s nothing there except the— oh.

“Are you… What, do you drink blood or eat raw meat or something? You’re practically drooling,” he says, uncaring for whatever though Renjun had yet to finish.

He gets a very much demonic glare— it’s very threatening, absolutely, enough that Jaemin feels it in his bones, feels his heart rate quicken, but also. 

Also.

Renjun is adorable. The twist of his mouth! The little wrinkle between his eyebrows!

So, you know, Jaemin’s not sure he cares enough to heed the warning his instincts are trying to give him. He grins.

Renjun sighs, and all the fight seems to go out of him, because he just looks at Chenle and tells him, “For the record, I’m not a _fucking_ demon. Those are incubi and succubi. Also, maybe I do drink blood. So what. It’s a _delicacy_.”

Chenle barks out a laugh, and an old lady— decked out in pearls for some ridiculous reason? At a grocery? Jaemin has no idea what goes on in rich people’s heads— glares at them down her nose as she passes.

The rich person Jaemin understands least of all, though, is Chenle, who is still cackling like he’s a twelve-year-old with terrible, sex-based humor only, and not a perfectly grown man in college.

“You— you’re funny. I like you,” declares Chenle, ushering Jaemin forward with several insistent pokes to the small of his back. Jaemin jolts like he’s electrocuted (as he’s prone to do, you know, as one does), swats at Chenle’s pokey fingers, but obeys. This is way too much meat anyway, so they don’t need to stay to pick out any more.

Chenle checks out and drags Renjun and Jaemin back to their dorm, chattering about what Jaemin’s going to make for dinner, and the movies he’s planning on forcing them to watch after.

Before Jaemin can so much as look at the receipts, Chenle’s already balled them up and tossed them in the trash can with a wink. 

Jaemin… has really, really good friends. Even if they’ve ruined like, 80% of his hearing.

/////

“Okay,” Chenle announces, shutting off the TV and sitting with his legs folded in the middle of Jaemin’s bed, “Let’s talk _boys_.”

“Boys?” Jaemin sounds puzzled, like he isn’t the source of the problem.

Chenle sighs. “One boy, _Jeno_ , if you can’t add two and two. Obviously, you guys don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Excuse you,” Renjun sniffs, snapping his fingers so the lights come on. Why Chenle thought shutting off their only source of light was a good idea, Renjun doesn’t know— _he’s_ got night vision. The humans? No.

Suckers.

“So, anyway, _Jeno_ .” Chenle stares Jaemin down, somehow looking threatening with his baby face and neon hair. “Why did you summon a _demon_ for _Jeno?_ ”

“I didn’t summon a demon _for_ Jeno!” protests Jaemin. “I summoned him for me!” He crosses his arms with a huff, probably strangling the Ryan plushie he’s hugging in the process. Renjun almost feels sorry for it. “You and Hyuck wouldn’t be wingmen for me. What did you want me to do? Talk to him _myself_? Unlikely.”

Renjun can’t believe the audacity of this man. “You— Chenle literally offered to bribe your professor for you _today_. I bet you were just embarrassed to ask so turned to the occult instead.”

“No, he’s right,” says Chenle. At the look Renjun throws him, he raises his hands up like that’ll do anything to prove his innocence. “I’ll do anything but directly stand with him around Jeno. The secondhand embarrassment? That’s— that’s suffocating. Awful. Really, really awful, oh my god. And it’s too hard not to make fun of him, and, like, honestly, that would leave a bad impression on Jeno and I’m not that cruel.”

Seriously? There’s no way Donghyuck wouldn’t want in on that chance.

“What about Donghyuck? He thrives on drama, wouldn’t he love to watch Jaemin suffer while he stands by, possibly recording it?” Renjun flops backwards on his bed. “That’s why he had Jaemin summon me.”

“Oh, he did at first, but then he got bored. Jaemin reacts the exact same way every time, and was making, like— he was making _zero_ progress. Donghyuck got sick of him. Also then he got Mark, and they got gross.”

Renjun sighs. “That’s honestly fair. In this _one_ case, I can support his decision. Not to summon me or be gross in public, but ditching Jaemin? That’s valid.” Just one class with Jaemin making moony eyes at Jeno was hard, any longer than that and it would have been able to count as torture.

“So,” Chenle says. “Where we’re at is—” he produces Jaemin’s phone from his pocket, unlocking it with a tap of his thumb against the button. (Jaemin blinks, then starts frantically searching the floor and patting at his pockets, and then— “What?” he demands, of no one in particular; Renjun snickers.) “So,” he repeats, as he swipes around the screen until he’s found the group chat. “So, so— group chat. Project. Thing. That’s where we’re at.”

Jaemin clears his throat pointedly. “Chenle-yah. Give me back my phone.”

With a shrug, Chenle lets him have it. “Now, where do you guys think we should go from here. I have an idea, but let’s see if you two can figure it out, because— because I can’t always be here to be the brains, you know.”

Wow. Rude. Renjun knows _he_ has a brain, Jaemin, maybe not, but Renjun has one. He’s seen it. 

“Okay, aside from the fact that what you just said is incredibly rude, currently, the plan is to start with the goal of friends. It’s always better to have a firm foundation, so we’re starting there, and then move on to phase two.” It’s a solid plan.

Chenle cocks an eyebrow, and he looks so irritatingly unimpressed Renjun wants to punch him. He won’t, because this is the only person so far who meets his standards for Jisung, but. He wants to. “And phase two is…?” He makes a little hurrying motion with his hand.

“Chenle-yah,” says Jaemin, swatting lightly at Chenle’s knee. “Don’t be rude.”

“Sorry,” says Chenle, and he beams, soft and apologetic, so… maybe he’s off the hook. temporarily.

Renjun huffs. Chenle is too cute to be this powerful. “Maybe we haven’t gotten that far yet. But it’s a ways away anyway, so we can work that out later.”

“That’s what they all say,” Chenle mumbles, rolling his eyes. “That makes for bad business. You have to go with the flow, yeah, but you have to… you have to plan ahead too, you know. You have to be prepared. You have to be prepared several times over. Seriously.”

Jaemin frowns to himself. “Who’s they?”

“They! It doesn’t matter.” Chenle nods. “You should just trust me. I study business. I know how this works.”

“This isn’t a business deal or a mafia thing where anyone’s life is on the line. It’s just getting to know someone, how hard can it possibly be,” Renjun snorts. “It’s not like he’s gonna kill us. And he _can’t_ kill me.”

“I’m not in the mafia,” laughs Chenle. “That’s ridiculous. And illegal-illegal. Not just illegal. They, like, they _murder_ people. Nasty stuff.” He shudders. “And anyway, it doesn’t need to be business for the principles to apply— business isn’t just money and products. It’s about people, too. You know… because, because people are the ones who buy things.”

“Then what’s your idea, businessman?” Jaemin smiles and leans back, like he expects something silly.

“Well. Well, we’d— well, so my idea—”

THUNK!

“Oops. Sorry.” 

Jisung is standing over Jaemin’s desk chair, now toppled over, awkward and noodle-y as hell. He turns and waves at Renjun, who honestly should have seen this coming. 

“Hi, I’m here for Renjun?” he says, to a very shaken up Chenle and a very, very deaf Jaemin. 

Jaemin’s snapping his fingers by his ears, too busy to question anything except whether his eardrums are in working order after Chenle’s absolutely demonic shriek (and that’s coming from a demon).

Chenle, meanwhile: “Who— who are you? Can you not just pop in like that? Have some manners! I almost had a heart attack!” he yelps.

Renjun sighs.

/////

Jaemin recognizes this boy. Not-boy. Sort of.

“You’re on Renjun’s phone!” he declares, pointing a semi-accusatory finger at him. Who is he, first of all, why is he here, and also—

Also.

He’s kinda cute. He looks like a baby.

The presumably-also-demon-boy (because hello, he just poofed in like fucking magic) just frowns at Jaemin. “Am I? Hyung never lets me see his phone.”

Ah. That would explain the fatal glare being drilled into Jaemin’s side courtesy of his very own demon. Cool. That’s cool.

“This is Jisung,” says Renjun, with a roll of his eyes. He shoves Jisung out of the way so he can right the fallen chair.

“Jisung, this is Jaemin, who contracted me. And this is Chenle.”

“His name is Chenle, okay, that’s one question answered.” Jisung nods. “But why did you send me his picture?”

“Excuse me! Excuse me.” Chenle stands, probably for dramatic effect, the cheeky little bastard, and places his hands on his hips. “First of all, I’m right here. Don’t talk about me like I’m not. Second of all, why did you send my picture? When did you even take one? Did it at least look good?”

Jaemin snorts. “Since when did you care? It’s me and Donghyuck who always have to look out for your public image.”

“I care! I always care!”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. 

“Most of the time!”

The eyebrow? Definitely going higher.

“Fine. Sometimes,” Chenle corrects. “But, but— I care now because— look, just because I’m not a gay disaster like you, doesn’t mean I’m not gay, and this guy is cute, and—”

Jisung seems to take offense to being called “this guy.” “What happened to not talking about people in front of them?” he demands. “And I have a—”

The room falls silent with a snap of Renjun’s fingers, and by the way Jisung doubles over, coughing with no sound, it’s not by choice. Jaemin watches with some amusement as Chenle tries to speak, too, with no more success than Jisung.

Jaemin grins and settles back on his hands. About time someone shut him up.

“Can I speak now? Any objections?” Renjun looks around at each of them, but of course, no one can say anything. “Good. So, Chenle, meet your demon noodle. Jisung, I think you should let him contract you.” He turns to Chenle. “Also, your photo came out fine. You’re almost unfairly handsome, honestly.”

This is flattery. This is disgusting flattery. Jaemin feels offended that it’s Renjun who has the dubious honor of saying it, and not himself.

Also, Chenle’s beaming at him and Jaemin also wants to be beamed at.

Hmph.

“‘Contract you’ he says,” mutters Jaemin, because apparently, Renjun only used his spell on Chenle and Jisung. Which is fair, because they’d been the only ones making noise. “Like Jisung’s some kind of disease. What is he, the plague?”

Renjun kicks his ankle, not all that lightly, and he yelps. He tries to kick back, but Renjun just snaps and appears in another part of the room, far out of reach. “He _was,_ actually,” he retorts. “Some old creepo made a contract with him, said, ‘I want those rats to suffer,’ and since Jisung didn’t like him— boom, never mind that by ‘rats’ the dude had meant his enemies, Jisung decided to curse literal rats.”

He snapped his fingers again, and—

“— AAAAA— oh. It’s back.”

Of course. Of course Chenle would scream until his voice returned.

Jisung slaps very, very tinily at Renjun’s shoulder. “Hey! Don’t— don’t tell them that story! I didn’t realize the rats were gonna. Go sailing! And, like— ohmygod. I didn’t realize they’d murder so many people.”

“You never realize anything, my stupid little brother. It’s part of your charm.”

“So he’s your brother?” Jaemin asks.

“It’s what I just said, right?” Renjun tosses back, which, you know, fair, but Jaemin was just confirming!

“I’m not going to make a demon contract. I don’t want to sell my soul,” Chenle interrupts. “He’s cute, but not that cute. Cute enough to take me on a date? Sure. Cute enough to own my soul for eternity and damn me to hell? No.”

Renjun… is Renjun pouting? Jaemin clenches and unclenches his hands and tries very hard not to vibrate where he sits. He is not gonna squeeze Renjun’s face like a stress ball, that will get him murdered. It doesn’t matter how cute Renjun is. Nope. 

“That’s fine,” says Jisung, shrugging. “I just came for answers. Hyung didn’t send any context with your picture. You’re kinda cute too, by the way. Bye.”

And… he’s gone.

“Yah, Jisung Park!” yells Renjun into the air. “You’re not that cool! Don’t act like you are!”

“Can he hear you?” Jaemin asks, honestly curious.

“No. I yelled anyway.”

...Right. Okay.

“He’ll be back. And then I can yell again. He _will_ get what’s coming to him.” Renjun’s eyes darken with what Jaemin sincerely hopes is _not_ murderous intent. Jaemin doesn’t know if demons can even die, but Renjun could probably figure it out if there was a way.

Also, as a demon himself, he probably just knows.

But hey, the whole brother thing has to count for something, right? 

Renjun hums for a moment, considering. He pulls out his phone and taps at it for a moment, and sneakily raises his phone for what Jaemin assumes is another photo of Chenle. 

“I saw that,” snaps Chenle, though there’s no heat. “You’re not slick.”

Jaemin revises his statement. Renjun just raises the phone, no “sneakily” about it.

“I have never once claimed I was slick. In fact, I may have mentioned I am _not_ that kind of demon,” Renjun sniffs, feigning offense. “I guess you guys don’t care about me. Ignoring me, what I say, unless I force you to listen.”

So maybe it just proves he has an absolutely debased sense of humor, but Jaemin wheezes a laugh. Renjun’s mouth curls at the corners, though, clearly satisfied with Jaemin’s reaction, so he’s not sure he cares.

Chenle rolls his eyes. “Hyung, your demon is whiny and weird, clearly you guys don’t deserve my infinite wisdom. Also it’s late, and I have a paper due in three hours that I only wrote two paragraphs of. I’m going home.”

“I thought you said you were going to teach me, an ‘uncultured demon,’ what a sleepover was.”

“I never called you uncultured!” protests Chenle. “I just said you were lame for having matching pajamas!” He’s already pulling the door open. “Night! G’luck with— g’luck with Jeno!” And just like that, he’s also gone.

Always a whirlwind, that kid. Jaemin adores him.

Renjun huffs under his breath. “Yeah, well, _you’re_ lame.” Wow. Savage. 

“He can’t hear you.”

“I don’t care!”

/////

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to us on our twt!  
> Lia @ watercolorflies, ella @ withusangie !


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